


As You Turn To Go

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack loves him, but he’s in Washington and Daniel’s in Colorado and other galaxies. And it’s so fucking hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Turn To Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for berty, who provided a prompt of angsty lyrics from The 6ths' song As You Turn to Go:
> 
> "Let the camera linger on your perfect skin  
> Your widows peak and your lucky grin  
> And the bluest eyes I know  
> As you turn to go  
> Let there be a record of your gorgeous voice  
> The turn of phrase that filled my days with joy  
> Something like Bing singing soft and low  
> As you turn to go  
> I know I`m not supposed to say I`m sorry  
> I know you`ve had more loves than Mata Hari  
> But you know you`re the star of my life story  
> And I`m so sorry  
> Let the poets struggle to describe your heart  
> Your art of love and your love of art  
> Well, if you ever loved me  
> Tell me so  
> As you turn to go"

“I hate this.” Daniel sits at the kitchen table, staring into the depths of his almost empty coffee mug.

“I bought the good stuff. Expensive. Not in a jar. What more do you want?”

Daniel nearly smiles. That isn’t what he means and Jack knows it. It’s not about the coffee. The attempt at levity is lame, but it is at least an attempt.

“I wish there was a way of avoiding this. I wish it could be tomorrow morning right now. I wish I could go from now to then in the blink of an eye. Tonight is so ... Sorry. I’m being a fucking asshole over this. It’s nothing new and there’s nothing we can do about it.” He drains the last of the coffee in a quick agitated movement and shoots a frown at the overnight bag sitting by the door, then stands up to wash out his mug.

Daniel’s shutting down, pulling back. Years of ingrained self-preservation kicking in. It happens every time they approach the time to say goodbye.  Jack acknowledges this as Daniel rinses the mug and reaches for the towel to wipe his hands. He watches Daniel’s hands ... hands that have held him and caressed him, urged him to soul-shattering orgasm  ... and something tickles at the back of Jack’s brain. Something.

Jack pushes off his kitchen wall and walks over to the sink. He stands behind him, close but not touching. Sometimes, at this time, when time is running out, touching is worse than not touching. It’s agony, a physical ache. The truth is he wants to soak up every second of precious contact, so that the memories of the feel of Daniel’s skin, the warmth of his breath, the gentle curve of his smile are there for him to call up when the Washington nights get too cold and lonely.

“I hate this, too. I hate that you leave before you leave, that you’re already in the cab, already on the plane. I wish ...” _I wish, I wish ..._

Daniel’s shoulders slump a little and he braces himself with both hands on the countertop. “It’s just .... so hard, Jack. Harder than I thought it would be. Much harder.”

And that something that has been niggling the whole weekend takes shape and life, and it floods Jack’s mind and gut with cold, clenching fear.

“What are you saying?” And he can’t believe he’s asking because he really doesn’t want to hear the answer.  He tries not to notice the beautiful shape of the hairline at the nape of Daniel’s neck, or the way the stubble softens the lines of his face as he half-turns towards him.

“I’m not saying anything. I’m just saying this it’s tougher than I expected. I sit on the plane and feel your absence like a living thing. I turn to say something and you’re not there, and it’s only in that second that I _realize_ you’re not there, because I’ve gotten used to ... And then I wake in the night and I reach to touch your back like I always do, to feel your skin, to know ... and you’re not there, and it fucking hurts.”

Jack can’t stand it.  His hands on Daniel’s shoulders turn him and haul him in, and he comes into his arms, bowstring tight and resistant.  And then, suddenly, Daniel simply melts against him, muscles relaxing in trembling submission and a soft, despairing groan escapes and huffs against Jack’s neck.  Because this, above all, is what Daniel misses and needs. He rarely reaches out, never asks for it, but his hunger for touch is deep and real.

They cling together, and the feel of this man in his arms is the one sane, honest thing in Jack’s life.

And he can’t lose it.

“I love you.” Jack pushes the words into the warm skin of Daniel’s neck, nuzzles in close, breathes him in; Jack’s soap, Daniel’s deodorant.  The words sound hollow to his own ears. Jack loves him, but he’s in Washington and Daniel’s in Colorado and other galaxies. And it’s so fucking hard.

“I know,” Daniel whispers, and Jack thinks he really does. He also thinks it may not be enough anymore. But he’s too much of a coward to ask.

Daniel pulls away just before the sound of the taxi’s horn breaks through the difficult silence.

They need to talk, to make some sense of these moments when love becomes little more than pain. But there’s never enough time, and now it’s time to go.

“Daniel ...”  He starts the sentence with no idea of what he’s trying to say. He hopes that, somehow, Daniel understands.

“I’ll call when I get back.” Daniel doesn’t say home, and Jack’s heart leaps just a little bit. Maybe this is home. Maybe Jack is his home, because Daniel sure as hell is his.

Daniel picks up his bag and, as he heads into the hallway, he turns. His eyes are bluer than Jack can ever remember them, his face more heartbreakingly handsome. “Bye,” he says, a half-smile on his lips.

Jack watches him go. His whispered, “Bye,” lost as the front door clicks shut.

 

ends


End file.
